Several days ago, Will brought up the fact that we didn't have a mojo for our trip. We tried to think of something appropriate for our trip but came up with nothing that satisfied. The subject was apparently dropped.
This morning, we drove Will to the airport. On the way, I noticed he had a little plastic toy sailplane. The sailplane is about two inches long, silver with red pontoons. The nose of the plane is a black, three-bladed propeller. Arriving at the curbside check-in, I asked Will what it was. "It's the mojo," he half laughed.
"Where did you find it?" I queried.
"On the parking lot when I was packing away my bike." He then explained that bikers find things on the road and duct tape them to their bikes for good luck.
I looked at the sailplane again. "Hey, if we don't make it on our biking trip, we can always sailplane back home into Gig Harbor!"
Will smiled. "Yep. There is always a way to get back!"
I handed Will two pieces of duct tape. He unceremoniously taped our sailplane to the hood of Bikrutz. With that and hugs goodbye, he stepped into the revolving doors of the airport that swept him away into the next route his life's road.
Miles: Al (single) 54; Cheryl (single) 29.
Total Miles: 1851
**Next Day's Journal**